Being together
by slowroad
Summary: Sherlock is a famous violinist who is going through a bit of a slump. It has been three years since John was invalided home from Afghanistan. He's slowly getting his life together.The two of them meet and fall in love. But now they have to learn to be in a long distance relationship…and make it work.This story is a sequel to An improbable love.
1. Chapter 1

**Are you ready to leave? SH**

**Almost. JW**

**How much longer? SH**

**Two minutes. JW**

**I love you. SH**

That made John smile. No matter how many times he heard it, it still made his heart flutter.

**I love you too. JW**

**If you did, you wouldn't still be at the hospital. SH**

**You would be here, letting me hold you and touch you and kiss you senseless. SH**

John felt a shiver go through his body. It was incredible how Sherlock could turn him on with just a look or a word, or in this case a text. Sherlock knew it of course and he used that knowledge quite mercilessly.

**I'm leaving. I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Promise. JW**

**And then you can do all the touching and kissing you want. JW**

**That's too long. I'm already hard, John. SH**

John's breath caught in his throat. His brain blanked out and all he could feel was the white hot flush of desire. Sherlock knew exactly how to make him go crazy with want.

**John? SH**

**Sorry. Blanked out there for a minute. JW**

**Really...I quite like the sound of that. SH**

**You would. You know exactly what you're doing to me. You're a bastard. JW**

**And I'm aching for you. SH**

That made John groan with frustration. Why was the cab taking so bloody long? He could barely sit still.

**I want to feel your under me...I want see you come undone. SH**

**Sherlock you're killing me... JW**

He literally ran up the stairs when he got home. He'd barely stepped in the door, when Sherlock was on him, kissing him fiercely, possessively. John moaned and put his hands around him, only to realise that Sherlock wasn't wearing anything under his dressing gown.

He growled, barely able to contain his desire. He dragged Sherlock into the bedroom and soon they were tangled in the sheets and in each other, lost in a world of their own. They were surprised every time by the intensity of their coupling. It was so much more than sex. It was a desperate desire to be together, to get as close to each other as possible, to become a part of each other...it was unlike anything either of them had ever felt before.

They lay there gasping, floating in a hazy afterglow, trying to breathe properly again. Sherlock was lying with his head buried in John's neck thinking how lucky he was to have this amazing man to share his life with. John held him close thanking whatever Gods there were for not giving him the nice woman that he had once thought he wanted. Sherlock was everything he wanted and needed and everything that he could not have imagined.

They had been together a month now. John still thought it was all a bit surreal. Sherlock was astonished that it had only been a month. How had he ever lived without John? He really had no idea.

It was obvious to everyone who knew them that they belonged together. Mrs Hudson was delighted. She had been hoping for years that Sherlock would find someone. John was, in her opinion, perfect. Just the sort of sensible and steady person that Sherlock needed to ground him.

And it helped that he had a mind of his own. Sherlock could be very aggressive…but John was more than able to stand up to him and she could see that Sherlock respected that.

Harry was overjoyed. She had been surprised to hear that her brother was in love with a man…he had never shown the slightest inclination that way before…but she could see that this was for real and she had done everything she could, to help.

Mycroft expressed himself with all the mellow dignity that defined him, but it was clear that he was extremely happy. For all the animosity with which Sherlock treated him, it was to his brother that he had gone when he needed help and advice.

It had been a wonderful four weeks. Both men had been happier than they had ever been before. But at the back of their minds was the thought of the inevitable separation…two weeks more and Sherlock would go back to work and they would have to learn to be in a long distance relationship.

While they both understood the necessity, neither felt ready for it. Sherlock was torn. He loved performing and after the rest he'd had, he was ready, eager even to get back on stage. But the thought of being away from John even for a day made him feel sick.

John didn't feel any better about it, but he had spent hours working things out with Lestrade so that Sherlock would be away for six months instead of eight. Also Lestrade had managed to schedule things so that as long as Sherlock was in Europe he would come home at least once a week. It was a lot more than they had hoped for…

_But it is not enough, _Sherlock thought. Despite what he had told him, he really wanted John to travel with him and be as much a part of his life as possible. It was selfish of him, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He'd had a life time of feeling unbalanced and out of place.

Lestrade had been the only person other than John who had accepted him but even he didn't understand him. John was the only person who made him feel at home…the only one who had ever thought him perfect as he was.

John made him feel peaceful and happy…he made his mind go quiet. Sherlock had got used to that now and he was loath to give it up even for a few days at a time. He needed John. The thought of leaving was making him acutely unhappy.

He tried to keep it to himself...but John noticed. He knew Sherlock's moods better than anyone. He tried to get him to talk, but Sherlock just smiled and said it was nothing. That smile was forced and John knew that something was definitely wrong...

He knelt beside Sherlock and kissed him lightly on his forehead. Sherlock turned to him with a small smile and pulled him into a hug. He held him tight...almost as if John might disappear if he didn't...And then John understood.

"It's only for a week at a time...at least for the first three months." He said gently.

"A week is too long John. I'll miss you too much. I don't think I can sleep without you."

"And you won't eat either, without me nagging you."

"That too." Sherlock said with a smile. He ran his thumb over John's lips like he was trying to memorise them. "Do you know how amazing you are?"

"No. But I feel like I must be when you look at me like that."

"John, why does it have to be like this?'

"I don't know love...I wish I could say that it will get easier, but I know it won't."

"What will you do when I'm not here?"

"Get drunk, listen to sad love songs and pass out, I expect."

Sherlock laughed. "You're much too strong for that."

"That's what you think." John said and then he pulled him into a long, lazy kiss. It was love, longing, desire, adoration, everything he didn't have words for. Sherlock was going to leave in a week's time and then they would only see each other for day or two, every few days. John had no clue how he would survive. But it helped to know that Sherlock was as unhappy about it as he was.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the night before Sherlock was due to leave. He was going to Vienna first and then to Madrid before he would come home…stay for two days…and then he would leave again, for Paris this time. John had committed the six month long schedule to memory.

They'd just finished dinner and Sherlock and Lestrade were at the kitchen table finalising the details of the first performance. Sherlock had gone into work mode and he was totally focussed. John didn't want to be in the way. So he settled in his armchair in the living room with his book.

He could see Sherlock from where he was sitting and suddenly he didn't look the Sherlock he knew. This was Sherlock the star, Sherlock the performer. He was sitting just a few feet away, but it felt like he was already miles away from him…too far away to reach, impossible to touch.

They had built a cocoon around themselves in the last two months. Suddenly it was gone and John felt like he was an intruder who had stumbled into Sherlock's life by mistake. It hurt to feel like that…he knew it wasn't true, but Sherlock was leaving and John was going to go back to the loneliness that he had come to dread…he was not feeling particularly rational.

He was supposed to be reading. But he just sat there lost in thought, feeling miserable. He looked up after a bit and realised that Sherlock was looking at him intently…he got up and came to John and kissed him, soft, quick and affectionate. He drew back, smiled fondly and said, "Idiot!"

That was one of the many advantages of being with Sherlock. John never had to tell him what he was thinking. Sherlock would just look at him and know.  
…..

The morning came all too soon and Sherlock was gone. John was glad he had barely enough time to get ready for work. It made it easier to ignore the emptiness of the flat. He had a long, busy morning. It was past three when he finally got back to his office. He reached for his phone immediately. He expected one, maybe two texts. Sherlock had sent seven.

I just got off the plane. I miss you. SH

Vienna is beautiful. I want to bring you here some day. SH

I'm at the hotel. It's lovely. I hate it. SH

I love you. SH

I'm at the rehearsal. The orchestra is good. Fewer idiots than usual. SH

I know you're in surgery but I do wish you would reply. SH

I love you. SH

I love you too. More than you know. JW

I've had a very busy morning. I was thinking of you the whole time. JW

I'd love to go to Vienna with you. I have this picture of us walking around the city hand in hand…on vacation, free to do as we please. JW

There's so much I want to do with you, so much of my life I want to share. SH

Someday. JW

Someday sounds like it is just too far away. I don't want to wait until we're old men. SH

You won't have to. I'll make sure of that. JW

I'm selfish enough to ask you to drop everything and just come with me one day. SH

And I'm foolish enough to actually consider it when you do finally ask me. JW

Made for each other then. SH

I'm almost done. I hate the thought of going back to an empty apartment. JW

I get to go back to a lonely hotel room. At least you have Mrs Hudson. SH

True. But I want you. JW

Not as badly as I want you. I don't think I can take six months of this. SH

I know I can't take six months of this. I don't even know how I'll get through tonight. JW

I'm considering early retirement. SH

You're 28. JW

Damn! There's always something. SH

I left something for you in my closet. SH

...

John, you sent me a blank text. SH

Mistake. But it does express how I feel. No idea what to say. How do you do this? How do you know what I want when I haven't said anything about it? JW

I'm looking at it and it is beautiful. I just played it and it sounds amazing. It even has your name on it…in a sweet little boy hand. How old were you when you got this?

I was ten. It was my first real violin. SH

I love it...I remember the night I moved in and I heard you play...that was the first time in years that I wanted my violin. I wanted to play again. JW

And to be able to do it on your violin...that is just incredible. Thank you. You are the best, the most thoughtful, the most amazing man in the world. How did I get so lucky? JW

I'm so glad you like it John. I want you to play it. And I want to play with you...I want to make music with you. SH

That was hands down the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. JW

And now it's your turn. I left something for you too. It's hidden in your bags. JW

Don't tell me, I'll find it. SH

John, you amazing, incredible man! I never even thought to want this, but I do, so much. SH

It's like having piece of you with me. And I get to wear them. I love you. SH

You'll actually wear them? JW

This is the part where I would say duh! if I was given to using that kind of language. Of course I will. SH

In fact, I don't think I will ever take them off. You've given me your dog tags, John. I cannot imagine a more personal gift. SH

I want to see you. Skype. Now. JW

John took one look at Sherlock sitting in that far away hotel room, wearing his dog tags and felt a rush of possessiveness in his heart. _He's mine. I love that thought. I had better ask him to marry me one of these days...how is it possible that no one else has realised how wonderful he is?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Morning, John. I'm guessing you're just getting ready for work. SH**

**Yes, love. I leave in five. What does your day look like? JW**

**Breakfast, rehearsal, lunch, rehearsal, tea, concert. SH**

**In a word, busy. I hate that you're performing tonight and I don't get to watch. JW**

**Don't start. I feel like I want to fling something at the wall. SH**

**I know how you feel…I want to kick something real hard. JW**

**London is wet and dull. JW**

**Vienna is sunny and beautiful. I'm sitting at the Cafe Bellaria. Their coffee is superb. SH**

**I'm sitting here and thinking how badly I want you here...SH**

**Lump in my throat. I just got to the hospital. I've got to go. Have a good day love. JW**

**You too. SH**

_Right, so this is how our life is going to be, _John thought. _A lot of text and skype, email and calls…not enough being together. I hate it. It's only been a day and I hate it so much and yet somehow we have to make this work._

…

Sherlock finished his coffee and sat there looking around him…Vienna was one of his favourite cities. He loved the people and the architecture and the old world charm of the place. He'd always enjoyed coming here. But now it seemed that unless John was with him, he couldn't really enjoy anything.

_I feel like I've left a piece of my soul behind and I can't function properly without it. Is this what people mean when they say that someone is their soul-mate?_

Sherlock had a bit of time before he had to be at the rehearsal so he walked back to the hotel thinking about John, about this life they were building together, about a future that they hadn't really talked about...

_What do I want? I want to be with John all the time. I want to marry him. I want to travel with him…but his life is in London. And much as I hate it, I know there is no way around that…so we'll just have to make this work._

…

John had a particularly exhausting morning…two complicated and extended operations… finally, he sank into his chair in his office and grabbed his phone.

_Five messages today. I hope we'll always be like this, loving and needing each other so much. I hope all this distance won't lead to us becoming less important in each other's lives and God forbid, not needing each other anymore...painful thought._

**I think I finally understand the meaning of the term **

_Right...took my breath away again. You are simply too wonderful for me to deserve you._

**I guess I should be grateful that I found you and not sulk about the fact that you can't be here. SH**

_Is this ever going to get easier?_

**This long distance relationship is hard, but you are more than worth it. SH**

_So are you...sounds like you sat at that cafe and did a lot of thinking, love._

**I really want to make this work, John. I want us to be **

**I'm just afraid that physical distance will eventually become emotional distance as well. SH**

_So we're on the same page as usual. You're right. We are soul-mates._

**It won't, love. We won't let it. JW**

**And you're right. This is hard, but very, very much worth it. JW**

**We did say we would do just about anything to make this work. That will always be true. JW**

**We're going to grow old together, and there will be time enough to be together and do all the things we want to. JW**

**It is my job and my life that takes me away. I guess I feel responsible for the distance. SH**

**It is my life that keeps me from going with you. I'm equally responsible. JW**

**This may never get easier to do, but maybe we'll learn to deal with it better. JW**

**Maybe. I really want to try. Neither of us should have to give up anything. SH**

**I really want to try as well, so we're good. JW**

**I'm done for the day. I'm going home to Mrs Hudson, tea and muffins. JW**

**Aren't you lucky! I'm back at the hotel. Got an hour to shower and dress before I have to leave for the concert. SH**

**What are you going to play? JW**

**Schubert, Strauss, Dvorak and Prokofiev. SH**

**I'm jealous of everyone who gets to be there. JW**

**What are you going to wear? JW**

**The usual. SH**

**Your usual is pretty spectacular. I need to see. JW**

**I'll send you a photograph in just a minute. SH**

**You are so very beautiful. Do you know that? That picture made me ache for you. JW**

**John you must not say things like that when I'm so far away. SH**

**This is rather a strange feeling, to have someone care so much about where I am and what I'm doing. It is a very nice feeling as well. SH**

**Can't say I'm used to it either. I honestly used to feel like I was this nameless, faceless nobody, like people couldn't even see me. JW**

**John, don't say things like that either when I'm so far away and I can't even touch you. I wish I could show you how special you are. SH**

**You do that all the time love...JW**


	4. Chapter 4

A week had gone by somehow. Sherlock was going to home the next day. John had spent a lot of this time talking to Mrs Hudson...he learnt more about Sherlock in that week than he had in the previous two months. Sherlock never talked about his past...John had wondered, but he hadn't pried. Mrs Hudson knew everything there was to know about "that boy" as she insisted on calling him.

She seemed keen that John should know everything as well...She told him about his troubled relationship with his parents. They had never paid much attention to him (or Mycroft, for that matter) as a kid. His father had been a diplomat. He'd travelled a lot, been busy all the time. He'd treated his children more as a nuisance than anything else.

His mother had been an artist. She was still rather well known. She lived for her work...so her kids saw too much of their nanny and not enough of their mum. They had really grown up not knowing how to love or what it was to be loved.

Sherlock had quite naturally, grown into a socially awkward teenager. And then he'd met someone...a young man called Jim who happened to be a friend of Mycroft's. Sherlock had been sixteen at the time, just discovering that he was gay. Jim was friendly...and Sherlock had never had friends...he was funny and interesting and very obviously attracted to Sherlock.

Sherlock was flattered...he was young and naive and he soon found himself very much in love. Jim said that he loved him too. They began a relationship that lasted a few of months... until Jim decided that he was bored and that he didn't want to hang around with a kid anymore and he left.

Sherlock was heartbroken. He'd tried to talk to him, get him to stay, but Jim made his disinterest obvious. He had used him and now he was done with him. And then his parents found out. His father simply couldn't stomach the fact that his son was gay. He told Sherlock that he was disgusted with him, that he would never accept a queer as his son. His mother just stood by looking hurt and affronted.

So Sherlock had left home at sixteen...he moved in with Mycroft, who had been everything in the world to him then. Mycroft took good care of him. Sherlock's career had just begun to take off and for two years he was very happy...

Then came Victor and a relationship that almost destroyed him...Victor was a pianist. They met on a few occasions and then they started playing together. They performed together several times and then they brought out a couple of very successful albums. They had a happy relationship.

But then Victor started doing drugs and Sherlock followed. In a couple of years he was an addict, blowing away his money and his life on drugs. Mycroft tried to talk to him, persuade him, but Sherlock would not listen. He was too much in love with Victor. Then Mycroft did the only thing left to him. He offered Victor money to get the hell out of Sherlock's life. And Victor, scum that he was took the money and left.

"He left Sherlock convinced that nobody would ever love him. That's why he thinks you're a miracle, John." Mrs Hudson said. "He knows that Mycroft acted for the best, but he resented him for taking Victor away...for taking the drugs away, for forcing him to clean up... interference he calls it."

And then came rehab and the painful rebuilding of a life gone all wrong. A good bit of this had been written about or hinted at in newspapers and magazines. John had known that Sherlock hadn't had a particularly happy life, but to have it all spelled out like this, made him hurt...it hurt a lot.

He could not understand how anyone could find Sherlock unlovable. How was it possible that anyone could have him and let him go? The man had so much to give. He was special and precious. He was a man to be loved and cherished.

"He's had very little love in his life, dear. I am so glad he found you." Mrs Hudson said as she wiped away her tears. John stood up and hugged her. "Thank you for telling me, Mrs Hudson. I wanted to know, but I could never have asked him."

John spent a long time in bed that night, thinking about everything that Mrs Hudson had told him. He found that his eyes were often full of tears...he thought about Sherlock and this life that they were creating together and he knew that he would do whatever it took to make Sherlock happy and keep him that way.

He had one last thing to do before he fell asleep. He reached for his phone and typed out a text.

Thank you for taking care of him. I owe you more than you will ever know. JW

I was merely doing my job. You have done as much for your sister. MH

It is good to know that I need no longer worry about him. Perhaps I should be the one thanking you. MH


	5. Chapter 5

John had spent a good deal of the past week playing music. He was hesitant and rusty at first, but it seemed that his fingers remembered what to do, even if his mind did not. Sherlock had left him a folder full of sheet music to use. John was looking through it when he found the concerto that he'd helped Sherlock write.

They had written it in the classical concerto form. It had three movements and it was meant to be played by a solo violin and an orchestra...it was the violin against the orchestra...a dialogue between them, as it were.

He was looking through this when he found that Sherlock had written another version of the same concerto. He'd called it _Cherchez l'amour _(looking for love) and it was written for two violins...a dialogue between two violins. John was surprised and intrigued. It looked like the same piece, but there were some obvious differences.

All the parts to be played by the second violin were marked J. So that was for him. Good. He started playing...tentatively, at first because he was still getting acquainted with his instrument. He was also feeling his way through the piece which was familiar to his ear but not yet known to his fingers.

It took him three days of playing for a few hours every evening to start getting the hang of it. By the end of the week he was playing it reasonably well...he got the feeling that Sherlock was trying to say something here that wasn't quite there in the original piece that they had written together. But he wouldn't know what it was until the piece was played with two violins as intended.

So he had to wait. He was standing at the window playing his way through the first movement when Sherlock came home. He stood at the door as quietly as he could and listened...the sight of John holding his violin gave him a jolt of pleasure and the music...John was no musician, but he played with his heart, he was able to give all of himself to the music, to treat is as more than just notes on the page.

Sherlock could hear all the tiny little mistakes, but none of them mattered because the emotion with which John was able to play transcended all such technicalities. Sherlock felt a stirring of pride in his heart...pride that this man belonged to him.

John finished the first movement and turned around. He saw Sherlock and his face literally burst into a sunrise of a smile. Sherlock thought he might never breathe again. John made to put down the violin, but Sherlock stopped him.

"Let's finish this." He said.

"We'll start over. I want to hear this from the beginning." John said as he reached over for a quick kiss.

Sherlock got his violin out and they started. Playing music with someone is always a wonderful experience...the shared love of the music, the sense that you get of creating something beautiful together, the feeding off each other's talent and enthusiasm...

It was a very long time since Sherlock had played with anyone...it was always him and an orchestra now. That was good in its way, but this was fantastic, because this was John. Playing with him was intimate and loving. It was profound, transforming, addictive even.

John hadn't played in a very long time. He had really enjoyed working on this piece and learning all its nuances. But all of that was not a patch on what playing with Sherlock was like. Sherlock was brilliant for starters. Every note that he played rang out clear and true and he seemed to be able to light up the music. Where John had heard beauty before, he now saw incandesance.

To play with him, to share the music with him was an intense and soul searing experience. And the music itself...he found that the music had plenty to say. The first movement was all about Sherlock, his loneliness, his confusion, the sense of a soul adrift and searching for an anchor. This much he had already realised.

The second movement began with the introduction of a new theme, muted and soft at first, but slowly growing in intensity...this was about him...the new theme meeting the old. The two themes danced around each other at first, point and counterpoint and then they combined to form a whole new melody that was tentative at first and then it became stronger, more assured and then it asserted and reasserted itself...

The third movement began with a reiteration of the first theme...but it was lighter now, more cheerful and then the second theme was introduced...it was softer and more gentle and the two of them were played together, and yet they remained distinct...each enhancing the other, but neither taking over...until they melted together and soared...

John had tears in his eyes when they finished...Sherlock looked like he was grappling for control as well. They both put down the violins and embraced .There was nothing passionate about it...all their passion they had just given to the music...it was warm and loving, an acknowledgement of their complete surrender to one another...a silent acceptance of their inability to exist without each other.


	6. Chapter 6

They held each other for a while, feeling overwhelmed. And then they drew back and just looked at each other, still unable to say anything. Sherlock brought his hand up to John's face and caressed him gently.

"Do you know how hard it is to believe that you're real? That you love me…you belong to me…but it is true isn't it?" Sherlock said with a touch of wonder in his voice.

"It is, love. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

"But why John?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you love me?"

"Because I do…I heard you playing that first night when I moved in here and your music just spoke to me…it was like I'd found something precious. I lay there in the dark, listening to you and I felt as if I already knew you... And then I heard you throw something at the wall and sigh in frustration and all I wanted was to come here and say or do something to make you feel better…I just knew it from the beginning, love..I knew that we belonged together. That's why it didn't matter even a tiny bit that you're a man and I'm not gay. I should have had some kind of a sexual identity crisis. But I didn't…you and me just felt right."

Sherlock looked thoughtful as he took in all of that and then he bent his head and kissed John…it was slow, gentle and loving…It was an - I love you so much and I never want to let you go-kind of kiss.

Then Sherlock dragged him over to the couch and made him sit down. And he lay down with his head in John's lap, smiling happily as he looked up at his face._He looks so very young and vulnerable,_John thought as he stroked his hair.

"I haven't finished answering your question." John said gently.

"Really?"

"Really. I haven't mentioned the fact that you're so beautiful, that I have trouble breathing every time I look at you. You are also very, very sexy. You're smart, funny, interesting and bloody brilliant at everything you do. And you have a very good heart."

Sherlock frowned, particularly at that last statement and said, "You're the only one who's ever thought so…" He sounded a bit disbelieving.

"No one has bothered to get to know you properly, then. Not that either of those bastards could ever understand you." John said…without thinking.

Sherlock's frown deepened and he looked suspicious. He sat up abruptly and said, "You've been talking to Mrs Hudson." He didn't sound at all pleased.

John realised his slip, but there was nothing he could do about it now. So he nodded. Sherlock got up and moved away from him. He looked hurt and confused.

"Why? Why did you have to know?" he asked.

"I didn't ask her anything, love. She wanted to tell me. She thought I should know."

"She thought…It's my life, John. I should tell be the one who tells you about it. Why did you want to know anyway?"

"I've read things about you, love. I was concerned is all."

"Concerned or morbidly curious?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you…So she told me a few things. It's not a big deal. Why are you angry?"

"Those few things, as you call them, are the very things about me that I hoped you would never find out!"

"Why?"

"Because I wish I hadn't done any of those things. Because I'm ashamed of them. Because I've spent the last five years trying to erase all traces of the man who was so naive, stupid, weak, foolish and…" he trailed off, no longer able to control the tremor in his voice.

He stood there in the middle of the living room, running his hands agitatedly through his hair, looking every inch the lost little boy, that he was.

John went to him and turned him around to face him. "Look at me, love." John said gently. Sherlock kept his eyes stubbornly on the floor.

"You think knowing all that will make me lose my respect for you. That I will love you less…you have to be out of your mind."

Sherlock looked up at that…"Sherlock, you were a kid. We all do stupid things when we're young. God knows, I've had my share of foolishness."

John had his hands on Sherlock's face and he gently ran his fingers across his cheeks. "I love you…and that means I love all of you, good, bad and stupid. I know you were once a drug addict. The very thought makes me feel sick."

Sherlock flinched at that. But John didn't let go. "Not for the reason you think. It makes me feel sick because I cannot bear the thought of you being hurt in any way. I know about Jim and Victor and you know what? They were both utter bastards. Selfish pricks who didn't deserve you at all. None of it was your fault."

Sherlock still looked confused. But he was no longer angry. He looked at John intently, trying to see the truth of those words in his eyes. John looked back at him, his blue eyes full of love and acceptance that Sherlock could not doubt even if he wanted to.

"You really mean all of that." Sherlock said.

"Yes I do. I love you, you idiot and nothing and no one will ever change that. Now shut up and kiss me."

And so he did. It was soft and slow, gentle and loving...He put his arms around John and pulled him close. John's put one hand in Sherlock's hair and rested the other on his arm. They stood there lost in each other and slowly the kiss got more heated and soon their hands were all over each other, their breathing ragged...

"John...too many clothes..."

John nodded as he quickly took off his shirt. "Bedroom..." he gasped as he dragged Sherlock along and pushed him into bed. It had only been a week but it felt like a lot longer. They were both desperate to touch and be touched...hungry for each other, all too aware that this time together was for a very short couple of days...


	7. Chapter 7

They lay in bed sated and spent, still clinging to each other...trying to hold on to this brief time when everything was perfect. John was lying on his back with Sherlock curled up against him. Sherlock nuzzled against his neck and then he propped himself up to look at his partner...he ran an appreciative eye over his body, noting with a smirk, the slight flush that crept up on John's face.

Sherlock loved that he could make John blush like that just by looking at him...John hated it, he tried very hard not to blush, but it was difficult, considering just how lascivious and downright predatory Sherlock could be when he raked his eyes over him like that.

"Do you know how very seductive you are?" Sherlock said.

"I believe you've just spent the better part of an hour telling me that." John replied with a laugh as he raised his hand and gently rubbed his dog tags. Sherlock was still wearing them.

"Do you know what a turn on it is to see you wearing these?" He said

"Is that your possessiveness talking Captain? I thought that was my area."

"Oh I'm possessive alright. I'm just better at hiding it..." He ran his hand lightly over Sherlock's neck and then down to his chest to rest once more on his dog tags. "This says to me, more clearly than anything else that you belong to me."

Sherlock smiled in response and stayed there looking intently at John. "I knew it from the beginning too." He said after a bit. It took John a moment to figure out what he meant.

"Really?" he said then.

"Yes. That note you wrote...it intrigued me. It made me want to meet you. And then I saw you and I can't really explain this, but it felt like I already knew you, like I'd known you forever. I couldn't understand it. That's why I invited you in and asked you to stay for dinner and..."

"I saw you and I thought, there you are." John said. "It was the strangest feeling."

...

Two days were never going to be enough. It was time for Sherlock to leave again and somehow this time, it felt worse. It was quickly becoming clear that they could not keep doing this. _We might make it through the next six months, but I honestly don't see how we'll do this year after year_. John thought as he watched his partner leave. Another week with nothing but the violin and Mrs Hudson to keep him company.

Sherlock left for Paris feeling like his heart was going to break. He had to stop and wonder why he was doing this even. Music had once been his whole life but now nothing was more important than John. Nothing was worth this cruel separation every few days. He didn't want to do this anymore...but just now he had to. He had made commitments and he had to keep them.

...

Sherlock texted John several times that day, very much as usual, but the texts were getting increasingly gloomy. John tried to cheer him up, he tried to make him laugh, but nothing seemed to work. The week went by and Sherlock was back home again. John was waiting, as usual.

This time Sherlock didn't say anything at all. He walked in, drew John to him and held him tight. Then he kissed him and then he kissed him some more. It was almost like he needed to reassure himself that John was still here and that he loved him, would love him always.

John knew what Sherlock needed so he just stood there letting his partner take what he wanted. They ended up in bed soon after. Sherlock made love that night with the kind of neediness that he had never shown before. It was clear that this distance and being apart were really messing with him, which considering his past, is not all that surprising, John thought as he lay back and let Sherlock kiss, lick and taste every bit of him, again and again.

...

Two months went by somehow. They were the hardest two months of John's life. He found himself wondering what was really important in his life, questioning his motives like he never had before. Harry began calling every other day. She'd noticed that her brother was starting to get depressed every time Sherlock left.

They were talking one day when she asked him if he would ever consider giving up his job, his life as he knew it just so he could be with Sherlock.

"No." he said, "I want to be with him, but giving up my job would mean that I would be dependent on him and I would hate that. I am my own man, Harry and I will always be."

"It doesn't have to mean that you'll be dependent on him. Maybe there is something else you could do with your life. Have you ever considered that?"

"I'm a doctor, Harry. That is what I do."

"Exactly, John. That is what you do. It's not what you are. You can be something else...

"Think about it John. Are your job and your so called independence worth your happiness?"

"I understand what you're saying Harry, but being a doctor is important to me. I've worked very hard for this."

"I know, John. But I also know that you are miserable. You've found the love of your life and yet you are acutely unhappy. And so is he. It's only been two months now, you have another four to get through. And then what? Together for two months and the shit starts all over again. Are you honestly telling me that you can do this year after year and not end up tearing yourself apart? Besides, you can share his life. You love music and travelling...All I want is for you to be happy. And you're not...so think about what I'm saying.

John spent long time that night thinking about what Harry had said. He wanted Sherlock, he also wanted his job. It was an awful choice to have to make...They had known that they would be in a long distance relationship. They had expected it to be hard. But he couldn't deny that they had perhaps hoped that it would get easier to deal with...

He was still lost in thought when his phone rang. He grabbed it, assuming that it was Sherlock...it was Lestrade. John felt the beginnings of panic. Why was Greg calling him?

"Hello."

"John, can you talk?"

"What happened? Is Sherlock alright?"

"Yes, but I'm worried about him. He's been absolutely quiet for the last two days. He's not eating or sleeping...he just sits in the hotel room staring at the wall and John...I just caught him smoking."

I could feel my heart sinking with every word...I had known that Sherlock was getting more and more depressed, but he was smoking? He'd quit years ago and he'd been fine...but clearly, the stress of their situation was getting to him.

"Did you say anything to him?" John said.

"I tried. But it was clear that he wasn't listening to me, so I shut up. Maybe you should talk to him."

"I will, but the smoking isn't really what you're worried about is it?"

"No. But this is how it starts..."

"You think he'll turn to the drugs next..." john said as he felt his heart clench.

Another month went by and Sherlock was almost continually depressed. John was too...but he hid it better He was just getting through his days. They still texted and talked every day, but not as much as they used to. This was not because they were growing apart as they had feared, but text and calls were such an inadequate substitute for being with each other.

Sometimes they would call each other and just hold the line, not say anything at all. What do you say when you miss your partner so much that it is painful to breathe? When all you want to hold him close...no amount of talking is a substitute for that.

John was struggling with his own feelings but he was even more worried about Sherlock. Lestrade had told him that he getting more and more withdrawn. He wouldn't talk to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. He wouldn't eat or sleep much.

And then there was the day when Lestrade called him to tell him that he'd found Sherlock smoking. John didn't bring it up with Sherlock because he didn't want to hurt him any more than he was hurting already.

But he was scared now...It was clear that Sherlock was not able to cope with the separation in any way at all and it was getting worse every day. What if he turned to his other addiction?

John was starting to wonder if keeping his job and his independence was worth the risk of losing the man he loved, the man he knew he could not live without. Maybe Harry had a point. Maybe there was a different life for him out there, if he would only consider it.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a week later. John hadn't yet been able to bring up the smoking with Sherlock. He tried every time they talked. But Sherlock sounded so miserable most of the time that John wasn't able to talk about it..._He's miserable enough already. I don't want to stress him out further, _he thought.

Sherlock came home two days later. He walked in and he quietly dragged John off to bed. He lay down next to him, held him close and drifted off to sleep. He woke up several hours later. John looked up at him and smiled. "Hello, love. Feeling better?"

Sherlock smiled back as he stretched. "I only sleep that well when you're around."

"Hungry?"

"Not yet, but I will be."

"Want to go out?"

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"Angelo's?"

"Ah the scene of our first date..."

"We weren't dating then."

"No. But I took you to a concert and then I treated you to dinner. Sounds like a date to me."

"Hmmm...true. Shall we go then?"

"I'll just take a quick shower."

"Okay."

Sherlock got out of the shower to find his clothes laid out for him. He saw the purple shirt and smiled. "You really like this shirt..." He said.

"No. I like you in that shirt. I love the way that colour looks on your skin, I love that it is tight and that it frames your figure perfectly. I love the way it shows off your eyes...You look good in everything, but that shirt makes you look ethereal and it gives me such a kick to know that you belong to me..."

Sherlock had been smiling through all that. He was positively glowing now. "Well in that case, I should have a say in what you wear as well."

"Okay."

Sherlock finished dressing and then he went looking for his bags. He came back with a package and tossed it to John.

John raised his eyebrows and then he tore the package open. It was a pair of black trousers, a dark blue shirt and a black suit jacket.

"This is...gorgeous. Thank you." He said.

"I picked it up in Milan. I think that shirt in particular will look very good on you. Wear it, so I can ogle you properly. "

John did. He looked up at Sherlock waiting for the verdict. He was not used to wearing clothes like these. Sherlock just stared at him for a couple of minutes...

"You have no clue do you?" He said finally.

"No clue about what?"

Sherlock was still staring at him. "I 'm going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you..." He commented as he looked John up and down, smirking when he saw that familiar blush appear on John's face. He walked up to him and pulled him into a long kiss. "I missed you so much. I can't wait for this to end..."

"Me neither."

They had a wonderful dinner and they ended up spending the next two days in bed. Neither of them mentioned how difficult the time apart had been. They were both anxious about the coming separation but neither mentioned it. They had perfected the art of pretending that everything was alright when they were together.

And then Sherlock had to go away again. He was going to be on a tour of America and Canada. He would be away for a month and a half almost...they had so far never been apart for more than a week at a time and that had been hard enough. This would be awful and they were not looking forward to it at all. But Sherlock had to go and John had to stay...

...

Sherlock was in New York...it was over two weeks since he'd left London and John. It was the longest they had been apart so far and the strain was telling on them. Sherlock grew quieter and quieter, to the point where he didn't seem to have anything to say to John other than "I miss you."

John got more and more depressed. Every day seemed to drag on forever. He stopped going to the pub with his friends. He would've kept away from Harry too, but she didn't let him. He tried to be as cheerful as possible when he spoke to Sherlock...but it was getting harder to do...

And then John got the call that he had been dreading.

Lestrade called to tell him that Sherlock had used again...after being clean for five years. Sherlock was lying unconscious in a hotel room...that image shook John to his core and he knew in that moment that nothing was more important than Sherlock, nothing at all. He had said it before, but now he decided to act on it, to prove it to himself.

John had never hated himself as much as he did at that moment. "Will you come?" Lestrade had asked him. It was never in question. John asked him to make the travel arrangements and prepared to leave immediately.

About twenty hours later, He was in that hotel room with Sherlock in his arms. Sherlock was awake now and feeling better...but he was heartily ashamed of himself and he apologised to John again and again...he looked so miserable and contrite that John thought his heart would break.

He pulled Sherlock to him and held him tight. "You have to stop apologising, love. I wish you hadn't done this. But I'm not angry with you. I'm upset with myself. I was afraid of this and yet I did nothing. What the hell was I doing so far away when you were breaking...Why didn't you just tell me?" he said, looking anguished and heartbroken.

"I couldn't...I didn't want to make you feel like you had to sacrifice anything for me."

"It would not be a sacrifice. Nothing in this world is as important as you...nothing at all. I have just lived through the hardest five months of my life and I never want to have to do that again. I never ever want to be away from you again...not even for a day. Not if I can help it."

Sherlock looked like he could not believe what he was hearing. "I thought...I thought you would be angry with me. I thought you would hate me for what I did. I thought you would never want to see me again..."

"If I never saw you again, I would just die and I'm not suicidal.' John said.

Sherlock was too overwhelmed to know what to say to that. So he put his arms around the man he loved and buried his head in his neck and held on for dear life.

...

Sherlock looked up after a while...

"It's true for me too you know." he said in a small voice. "You're everything to me. Nothing in the world is more important. I've spent the last few months wondering why I'm doing this. I used to love my work, but it doesn't matter anymore. Not if it means I have to be away from you all the time…I'm so very sorry for what I did, John. It was weak and stupid. I keep saying that I don't deserve you and you keep proving me right...You really are too good to me."

He sat there staring at the floor looking miserable. John tilted his head up and kissed him lightly. "It's over, love. You slipped up, but you did it because you were struggling. It's really okay. I need you to stop dwelling on that. I'm here now and I'm staying...as in I'm not leaving you alone ever again."

"You would give up everything for me, just like that?"

"Honestly, I don't feel like I'm giving up anything. Not anymore. Harry asked me a few months ago if I would ever consider doing this and I said no. I said that I am my own man and I need to have a life and an identity of my own. But it's been very obvious these past few months that I stopped being my own man a while ago…pretty much since I fell in love with you."

"We're neither of us the people we were, love. We're two halves of a whole now. Being away from each other is not an option….we've tried it and clearly it's not something we can do. And the way I see it, I can share your life and your music. I can be a part of it in a way that you can't share mine. So that's it. Simple really."

Sherlock sat there looking at John intently…searching for the truth of those words. John seemed sincere enough, but he had to be sure. He didn't want John to make any decisions that he would regret later.

"It's really not that simple, John. You're here...willing to do what very few men would be ready to do. And all for me…"

"Very few men have what I have, I guess." John said softly as he held Sherlock close to him, thinking how very precious he was.

"And don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you alone. There's a significant amount of selfishness involved…Before I met you, I had my work and my friends, but my life was empty. It was bland and boring. It was so very lonely. It's a feeling that I've come to dread. It's a feeling that comes back every time you leave. And I've had enough of it to last me a lifetime."

"I want to believe you, John. I do. But being a doctor is important to you. You've worked very hard for it. You shouldn't just give it up."

"It hasn't been an easy decision, love. I've been agonising over it for the last four months. But I haven't had any joy in my work lately. I've been too unhappy without you. And now I'm worried about you. How can I possibly leave you here and go back?"

Sherlock looked guilty again. "So what will you do now?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure I can find something else to do with my life."

"I can take care of you, you know." Sherlock said hesitantly. He didn't want to bring up sordid things like money but he wanted to give John the assurance that he wouldn't have to worry about things like that...without hurting his pride.

John laughed. "I bloody well expect you to."

Sherlock was relieved. "So all this horrible not having you with me is over?"

"Yes, yes it's over." John said with a smile. _He's like a child,_ he thought_. And he needs looking after. I love him so much that I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life doing just that._

They were both happy. They were also exhausted. The events and emotions of the past several hours had left them feeling drained. They lay in bed holding each other and thinking, getting used to this new and much better reality…and then they fell asleep…

…..

It was the afternoon of the next day. Sherlock had just come back from the rehearsal…he'd asked John to go with him. But John had refused saying that he was tired. He was. But he had another reason for not going. He was not yet ready for all the questions that his presence would inevitably bring up. And wasn't sure that Sherlock was ready either.

They had a quiet lunch in the hotel room…both seemed to be occupied with their thoughts. Sherlock in particular, seemed to be thinking very seriously about something.

When they were done and lunch was cleared, Sherlock drew John to the bed and made him sit down. He took his hands and kissed them lightly.

John smiled. "What is it then?" he said.

It was clear that Sherlock wanted to say something.

"I love you, John." Sherlock said with a small, shy smile. "You know that of course, but it seems I want to keep telling you."

"I want to keep hearing it, so we're good." John said and waited.

It was clear that there was more to come. "I've wanted to do this for a while, but somehow it never seemed like the right time…I…" he sighed and shook his head like he was looking for the right words.

"I don't think you know just how wonderful you are…I...I was so lonely. You came into my life and gave me…everything…I don't think I can ever make you understand just how grateful I am...But I have one more thing to ask of you, my love. Will you marry me? I would dearly love to call you my husband."

...

And so it was that when John walked into the auditorium with Sherlock that evening, he was dragged all over the place and introduced to everyone as "my fiancé".

Sherlock gave what he would long consider his best performance that night. He was on stage in an auditorium full of people, but he only played for one of them...one that he would forever consider his miracle.


	9. Chapter 9

John sat in the wings watching his partner dazzle the audience. Sherlock was always brilliant, but he out did himself that night. It was the first time that John had seen him on stage since they'd got together and he was quite blown away.

Sherlock walked on to the stage like he owned it. He stood there, in front of a whole orchestra and made it impossible to look at anyone but him. John found himself wondering for the millionth time how he of all people, had ended up with Sherlock.

He felt the ring on his finger and smiled…he was still getting used to it. Sherlock had surprised him…John hadn't expected it at all.

But here he was, engaged to be married…to a man. And he was not even gay. He'd just quit his job...given up on being a doctor (something that had meant the world to him once) just so Sherlock and he could be together…He was willing (at 33) to give up everything he knew and try something different.

Sherlock had walked into his life and turned it upside down and inside out. And it felt good. It felt very good.

John had no idea what he was going to do with his life now…it was a bit scary, the not knowing, but it was freeing as well. His biggest priority at the moment was Sherlock. The last few months had been hard on them both. John had struggled to cope with the aching loneliness every time Sherlock left.

Sherlock had not been able deal with it. John still felt guilty about that…he had known how depressed Sherlock was getting. He had been afraid that he might turn to drugs again...but he hadn't done anything about it...Well, he was here now and he would see to it that Sherlock never had a reason to be depressed again.

The performance was over. Sherlock took a bow. The audience were on their feet, clapping and cheering. For the first time in a long time, Sherlock was happy to be where he was, doing what he did. He turned to look at John standing in the wings…he was clapping too. And he had the biggest smile on his face.

Sherlock found himself wondering for the millionth time how he of all people, had got so very lucky. He knew that John loved him, but the man had spent the last couple of days showing him exactly how much and how deep that love was, and how far he was willing to go to make him happy.

Sherlock was beyond grateful. _I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to him,_ he thought as he walked off the stage, into the wings and drew his partner into a kiss.

...

**One year later**

**From the blog of John Watson**

I woke up today and realised that I have a very special anniversary to celebrate…one year ago today, Sherlock asked me to marry him. That was also the day I quit my job as a doctor. I was sitting alone in the hotel room that morning chatting with Harry.

"You should start a blog." She said. "You're going to be travelling around the world with a man who is famous, notorious even. He doesn't give interviews. Nobody knows much about him...And you're his partner. I think a lot of people would be interested."

And so, thanks to my sister, this blog was born. I had never done any kind of writing before, but I found that I really enjoyed it. And it was so much fun to record all of the things that we were doing...the people we met, the places we went to.

I hoped that this blog would find a few readers. I certainly didn't expect the kind of popularity that it has somehow achieved. Sherlock claims that he doesn't like my blog...he says I romanticise him..."You make me seem like a character in a book," he says.

But that doesn't stop him from reading everything I write and commenting on, analysing and annotating every piece. My big news today is that a few days ago I was offered a book deal...totally out of the blue.

I have a gift for travel writing apparently...at least that's what my new editor thinks. So I'm going to be writing a travel book.

I confess I am amazed at the way my life has turned out. The best part of it though, is that I'm married to the most beautiful, amazing, talented and brilliant man in the world. I know that is a lot of adjectives, but this is me being restrained, actually. I could throw a whole thesaurus at you when it comes to talking about my man...I can't help myself. You see, I'm quite besottedly in love.

**200 Comments**

**...**

"Beautiful, amazing, talented and brilliant"...really, John, don't you think that is a bit too much? You do romanticise me, you make me seem better than I am. You never tell your readers how special you are. So I'm going to do it.

Dear reader,

My John is a wonderful man. He's intelligent, witty, charming and very handsome. He is a man of many talents. He used to be in the army, he was a surgeon, he plays the violin and now he has taken up writing, quite successfully I might add. So if there is anyone who is amazing here, it is John. He is also a good man. A caring husband who does not hesitate to give everything that he has to give. I am incredibly lucky to have him.

Sherlock Holmes

**...**

"Intelligent, witty, charming and very handsome"...And you think I'm the one who goes overboard when I talk about you. Pots and kettles, love.

John Watson

**...**

**Finis**


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